Una Scuola Differente, Una Vita Cambiata
by chicadoodle
Summary: Hogwarts isn't the only school of magic. So who is to say that other schools wouldn't attempt to entice Harry to their school? But there are so many choices ... and Durmstrang is simply the first to attempt to entice The Boy Who Lived to their school.
1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts wasn't the only school of magic.

Harry Potter stared at the man in front of him, sitting on his bed in a daze. Hagrid's presence was something he could live with, now. He had come to accept the presence of magic, of men who were easily two times the size of a normal man. The extraordinary was commonplace now, with him.

But what he hadn't been prepared for, was a choice. He had a choice. It was a novel idea, after a lifetime of decisions being made for him, or being told what he could and could not do, and when it was appropriate to do those things that were allowed. When to eat, when to cook, when to clean, when he could look through Dudley's old toys and see if he could salvage something useful. He had certainly never been given a choice, and certainly not one that would affect his future.

This man was from Durmstrang, standing near his window with one foot set back against the wall. His dark eyes stared intently at Harry, for glanced away a smaller, less prestigious Wizarding School, it's location hidden from even the other schools. But the man wasn't here just to entice him to attend Durmstrang.

"Hogwarts is not all that they claim it t'be, Harry. Albus Dumbledore, he has made many enemies through the years, and those enemies, they've been known t' use the students t' get to him. Those students rarely make it out of these encounters alive."

Harry started at the sound of the man's voice, which had been silent for some time now as he thought of the proposition laid out before him.

"I would love to see you come to Durmstrang, Harry." Here the man knelt beside Harry's bed, one hand on the thread-bare blanket upon which he sat, and the other resting on the boy's knee. "But right now, my biggest concern is that you _not_ attend Hogwarts. I don't want you gettin' hurt like other children. Do y' understand?"

Harry nodded slowly, blinking owlishly at the other man as he fought to understand his accent. He'd never actually heard such a think accent before, other than on Dudley's telly as he cleaned in the hall outside his cousin's room.

"It's just ..." Harry paused, biting down on his lower lip and staring down at the floor. "How am I supposed to know about the other schools? It's not like I have a lot of time to visit Daigon Alley or anything. Is there anybody I could ... talk to?"

"Tell you what, why don't we take a visit to the book store today? I'll talk to your relatives for you, alright?" Harry slowly nodded, smiling slightly as he accepted the man's hand to pull him to his feet – after the man had climbed to his feet himself, of course.

"Oh! My name is Aaron." The man – Aaron – grinned down at him, and Harry smiled tentatively back, still slightly surprised when he wasn't yelled at or taunted for showing happiness. Usually, his happiness was cause for his relatives to set him to more work, or banish him to his room.

They made their way down the stairs together, Harry trailing slightly behind the older man, as if Aaron could somehow protect him from the uproar that was sure to ensue from a wizard's presence in the Dursley household.

Vernon was the first to notice them, as the presence of a tall, foreboding stranger in his house was hard to miss. The sight of his nephew hiding behind him just added to his anger, as he rose from his chair, face beet red and pudgy hands balled into fists. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

Aaron winced slightly at the sight of the larger man, sending a pitying glance down at his young companion. Now he understood the boy's reluctance to let him come down here. Now he understood why he cowered in fear behind his only current protection from his uncle's wrath.

"Mr. Dursley, my name is Aaron Vineer, a consultant at the wizarding school of Durmstrang. With your leave, I'll be taking your nephew int' the city for the day. I wished only t' inform you of this change o' plans."

"He's not going anywhere." This came from the small, horse-like woman sitting at the table, as he rose to her feet and came to stand beside her husband. "Harry has yet to complete _any_ of his chores, and besides, that horrid giant of a man has already taken the boy shopping for his freakish school supplies."

Aaron frowned at that, turning his head to stare down at the boy, who merely gave a wry twist of his lips in a parody of a smile as he shrugged his shoulders. _Freakish?_

"Mrs. Dursley, I'm sure Harry will return in plenty o' time t' complete any chores you have for him. And whoever Mr. Dumbledore may have sent to help Harry with his school shopping – a practice I've never even 'eard of, to be honest – well, I am not from Hogwarts. I am from Durmstrang, a school we hope to entice Harry int' commin' to instead."

Petunia only stared at him dumbly for a moment, mouth open in shock. "Wait, there's more than one those schools? There's _more_ of you?"

"Of course there are. There are far too many young witches an' wizards to fit int' one school, no matter how big, my dear woman. But please, we must be hurryin' along. Excuse us."

"Wait, wait, wait. Just wait one minute." Petunia reached out, grabbing his arm as Aaron attempted to walk past her. He stopped mid step, staring at her in surprise. "If there's more than one of you, then who gave that man Dumbledore the authority to force us to take the boy in? To put all those spells up around the house without our bloody consent?"

Now, Petunia Dursley was normally the picture of female compliance, never doing or saying anything that would be considered un-ladylike. Now, however, she was irate and frustrated, unsure of herself of the circumstances of her nephew's continued presence in her house/

"Albus Dumbledore had no such authority, I can assure you, ma'am, and I'll be bringin' this up to both the English Ministry of Magic, and my own government." Aaron's eyes had narrowed through her little speech, and now his lips had formed a thin, straight line as he stared at these people – the husband and wife, and their young son, all of which appeared to be in much better health than his young companion.

"Then take him. His stuff is in the cupboard under the stairs. We only kept him in the first place because of that horrid man. We want nothing to do with him or his freakish ways."

Harry took a startled step back at that, away from his relatives. He knew his aunt and uncle didn't particularly like him, but he had certainly never thought they _hated_ him.

Aaron took a step forward, so that he was uncomfortably close to the woman. "He is your _nephew_, you daft woman. Your _blood_."

Petunia merely made a small sound of derision in the back of her throat, blushing hotly when she realized what she had done. Stepping back away from the older man, she returned to her seat at the table, focusing entirely on the food in front of her. "I'm sure Harry will return in plenty of time to complete his chores this evening."

Harry allowed himself to led out of the house, still slightly in a daze as he watched Aaron root around for something in his pockets, before finally coming out with his wand. "There we are. Please, bring your wand out, Harry."

Harry started at that, blushing furiously. "It's in the cupboard under the stairs, just like the rest of my stuff." He admitted softly ,hitting the tip of his sneaker lightly against the pavement repeatedly.

Aaron merely stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded, before shaking his head and reaching over to grip his young companion's shoulder lightly. "I'll talk to them later, alright?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, staring down at the ground. Aaron sighed, wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders as he proceeded to flag down the Knight Bus. While he would have preferred a more anonymous form of travel, this would have to do for now.

Harry climbed onto the bus after him, staring around himself in awe, his relatives disturbing words from earlier forgotten for the moment as he took in the strangest bus he had ever seen in his life. Well, actually, the inside of the bus wasn't all that strange, but the drivers certainly were – how often did you see a driver that was a head – and only a head? And one with a Jamaican accent, of all things.

Aaron steered him to an empty seat, settling him in beside the window before sitting down next to him with a sigh. "Sit tight, It'll be a while."

Harry nodded, leaning his head against the window as the bus gave another violent jerk. Aaron kept him place with a carefully placed arm, however, and Harry smiled gratefully before returning to his perusal of the world outside as they sped away.

* * *

**A/N**_This is an idea that has been bouncing around inside my head for a while now. Well, maybe not that long. Anyway, why didn't any of the other wizarding schools attempt to get Harry to attend there, instead of Hogwarts? There are certainly enough of them, and Durmstrang seems like the ultimate Slytherin school – so why wouldn't they send somebody to Harry to try and entice him to their school? I'm not sure if I am going to continue this or not, so any comments y'all might have would be amazing :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** And here' s chapter two. I don't currently have a Beta Reader, so if there are any grammatical or alphabetical mistakes, let me apologize now. I have gone over it as bets I can, so there shouldn't be anything too serious. I am simply _**amazed**_ by the response I got to this story – I thought it was going to be a bust, to be perfectly honest. And now I have so many ideas! It's wonderful. Enjoy! And don't forget to leave a review if you like the story – it keeps me going, gives me motivation to work on that next chapter :) Enjoy!

* * *

It was nearly an hour later that Aaron helped his young charge off the bus, one hand resting on his shoulder as Harry swayed uncertainly on his feet. By the time they reached the door to the pub, however, he no longer needed the support.

Aaron kept the hand on his shoulder, however, glancing around himself warily as he watched the other occupants of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's face was now known, whereas before he had been an unknown, reporters and the like being forbidden from taking photographs of him, or, indeed, from going anywhere near his place of residence. He had never understood the restrictions, although now he could imagine Dumbledore had had something to do with it, if he had been controlling everything else about the boy's life.

Those disgusting muggles had never wanted him, of that he was sure. The public had been fed some story of how they had stepped forward to take in their blood, their kin, and like a fool he had believed it, just like everybody else. What reason had they had to check? To make sure? The Dursley's were his only living relatives on his mother's side, and the closest kin he had alive. There was no reason to distrust them.

They made it through the pub without further incident, heading into the back but not out the door. Into a private room he led the child, to a floo connection for those who preferred not to make a fool of themselves for all the world to see as they slipped and slid out of the fireplace.

Harry, of course, had never even heard of this form of travel, and Aaron hid a smile behind the boy's back as Harry jumped in surprise at the sight of the flames turning a startling green. This room was for outgoing travelers, not those coming in, and Aaron could just imagine what the boy's reaction would have been, had he seen somebody _arriving_ through the connection.

For his part, Harry was staring at the fireplace with trepidation, before he glanced back at Aaron. His eyes narrowed in suspicion at the smile on the man's face, before Aaron gave the hand on Harry's shoulder a slight push, sending the boy sprawling into the fireplace.

Harry flinched back from the flames merely on reflex, before reaching out to touch the green flames that rose around him with no small amount of wonder.

Aaron laughed outright at that -- he couldn't help himself -- before stepping into the flames with his young companion and turning the boy around to face the room at large.

"D'iona's Pub." He said simply, and in the moment before they were whisked away, Harry glanced up at him quizzically. He had no time to answer the boy, however, as they were pulled through the floo connection at that moment.

Harry stumbled out of the connection, falling to his knees and he fought to keep his stomach's contents from spilling onto the floor beneath him.

After a few healthy gulps of air, he turned his head to glare up at the older man. Aaron merely laughed softly, helping the younger man to his feet. "Come on, there's somebody I want to introduce you to."

Harry followed, albeit a bit reluctantly as Aaron led the way out of the dimly lit pub -- hadn't these people ever heard of electricity? Or at least windows at the very least -- it was the middle of the day! Certainly too early for it to be this dark.

By contrast, the light outside was almost blinding as they left the pub. The buildings around them looked older, and far more delicate than those he had seen in London, or Daigon Alley.

Of course, they wouldn't have taken ... whatever they had taken to get to Daigon Alley. And if there was more than one school of magic, why couldn't there be more than one community? More than one Daigon Alley?

Aaron walked slowly to keep pace with his young charge, glancing down every once in a while at the small boy, who was now staring around himself with no small amount of wonder. He had to admit -- the city was beautiful. He came here far too rarely these days, cooped up as he was in Durmstrang, or retrieving students who had been accepted into Durmstrang -- usually these students were more local to the area of Durmstrang, living in Russia and similar places. Harry was the farthest away he had been forced to go retrieve a student ... in a long time.

Most students bought their supplies on their own, and so he was simply sent to retrieve them and bring them to the school, usually a week or two before school actually started. The rest of the students arrived on the ship, along with any new students who had brothers or sisters starting that year. But Harry was different. Harry they had to convince.

To be honest, he was more than a little surprised that no other schools had attempted what Durmstrang was now doing -- trying to entice the Boy Who Lived to their school. The prestige of having such a figure in their school was ... phenomenal. Who said that Hogwarts instantly got that honor? Why not Durmstrang? Or some other school, for that matter? Dumbledore would corrupt the boy, change him, mold him into something he never would have been on his own.

And that just wouldn't do.

Aaron placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, steering the boy to the left and down a small side street. At the other end they quickly crossed the street into a rather large building, and Harry trailed his fingers across the books that lined the walls there. He recognized the building -- or at least what it was used for. Bookstores kept the same basic idea and outline, no matter where you went. Plenty of books along the walls, and comfortable chairs to sit down and read. And, of course, the obligatory check out counter for when you were ready to pay for your purchases. This one even had a small cafe on the inside.

They continued through to the very back of the store, before Harry was left at a line of magazines as Aaron caught the attention of an older employee and struck up a conversation, far enough away that Harry couldn't make out what the were saying. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned toward the magazines, flipping through the first that caught his fancy. It wasn't like he hadn't been ignored before.

It wasn't long before Aaron joined him again, placing a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. Harry glanced up with a smile, before carefully placing the magazine back where he had found it.

"Harry, I'd like to introduce you to Michael Giovanni, the owner of this fine establishment." The man in question sent a wry look Aaron's way, making a small "tsk"ing sound.

"I'm still not going to give you any of my books for free, Aaron, so you can just stop with the flattery." He sent a grin in Harry's direction, winking at the surprised boy. Harry found himself flushing slightly in embarrassment, unsure how to react to the sudden attention from somebody he had just met.

"So, Aaron tells me you're looking at the different magical schools in the area?" Michael came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his right shoulder as he steered Harry toward a set of chairs in the corner, and Harry had to wonder what was up with all the _touching_. Not that he didn't like it, it was just ... odd.

"Y-yes sir. I didn't even know there were any other schools, beside Hogwarts, that is. I got my letter a week ago." He said the last with no small amount of pride, still fond of the day Hagrid had come to tell his relatives off for trying to keep him from Hogwarts. His uncle had made him pay for the humiliation they had been put through later, of course, but it had still been worth it.

"None of this "sir" stuff now, my boy. It's Michael. Mike, if you're feeling particularly friendly. Call me Mikey and I'll have your ears for breakfast, though." Noticing how the boy's eyes widened comically at that, Michael burst out laughing, a low melodious sound so unlike his Uncle's loud, annoying guffaw that Harry actually jumped in surprise. "I'm just teasing you, boy. Now, what has Aaron told you so far?"

"Well, I know about Durmstrang, now. But that's about it. He said he'd take me to see somebody who could tell me more."

"Of course he did. Daft boy doesn't know jack about any school other than his own. Now, I understand your parents went to Hogwarts, and it's probably got some sentimental value right there. But there are plenty of schools out there besides Hogwarts and Durmstrang, and it won't hurt to take a look, now will it?"

Harry shook his head, smiling over at the older man. He could already tell he'd like this Michael fellow -- he was just too friendly for anything else.

Michael smiled, reaching over to pat Harry encouragingly on the arm.


	3. Chapter 3

Michael rose to his feet suddenly, and Harry molded himself back into the chair behind him, wondering if he had done somthing wrong. Wondering if he was going to be punished.

Michael did his best to ignore the action, but he was finding it harder and harder to ignore the small signs that were cropping up here and there. Signs of abuse, of neglect. The way the boy --Harry -- shied away from his touch, the way he refused to speak of his relatives. They way those same relatives were absent, letting him make one of the most important decisions of his magical life on his own.

Maybe Harry had never been physically abused, maybe he had. There was no way to tell, since there were no bruises apparent on his lower arms or face -- the only parts of him visible. And that was another thing -- the child's clothes. His pants were several sizes too big for him, dragging on the ground over what appeared to be old, worn sneakers. Those, at least, fit, although one could tell they were becoming too small for the boy as he outgrew them. His shirt was much too heavy for this time of year, and for some odd reason he was wearing a hooded, zip-up sweater over it. In case he got cold? The clothes were all clean, at least, and it was possible that it was raining in London. Perhaps it was even cold. England wasn't known for it's tropical weather, after all. Part of the reason he made his home here in Italy.

All this went through his head as Michael retrieved a few pamphlets from a small corner of the magazine rack. Like all of the other magical book sand magazines in the shop, it had a small repelling charm if you happened to be muggle, and this one had another charm on top of that -- an enticement charm if you were magical, and under 11 years old. He had seen Harry's eyes going to it more than once, but the boy was too well behaved to say anything. That was the polite way to say that he was too afraid of punishment if he asked questions.

Because he didn't. Ask questions, that is. All he did was sit there and soak up whatever information Michael felt like throwing his way. It was sad, really, especially considering who he was. It would have been sad either way, to be honest, and wrong. But, him being _Harry Potter_ ... it added the extra bit of spice to the recipe, that extra _oomph_.

Handing the pamphlets to the boy, Michael re-took his seat, forcing a smile he didn't really feel on to his face. Harry returned the smile weakly, before dropping his eyes to the pile of pamphlets in his lap with a frown.

"Just some of the more well-known schools you might be interested in, along with a couple of year-round schools. They aren't very popular, as I'm sure you can imagine, most children not wanting to be seperated from their parents -- and most parents not wanting to lose nearly all contact with their children. In your case, though, it might be something to look into."

Harry glanced up sharply at that, and Michael cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting his gaze to Aaron, whos simply shrugged with a small smile on his face. Michael quickly refocused on his young companion, offering a tight stmile before he continued.

"Many of the smaller schools are seperated by sex, just as Durmstrang is. Obviously, you would be attending an all boys school if you chose one of those, but they will often meet with other schools for formal functions -- dances, holiday celebrations, the like. You should definately look over those carefully, maybe find somebody else to look over them with you -- an adult, preferably." Michael paused again, sighing. "I'm really not sure what else I can tell you, other than to choose carefully -- this decision will affect the rest of your life, my boy."

Harry nodded distractedly at that, already skimming over the front of one of the smaller, year-round schools' pamphlet, eyes constantly moving as he took in both the words, and the pictures of the grounds.

Aaron rose to his feet, rubbing a hand across his forehead as he watched the young boy. Sharing a glance with Michael, he laid a hand on Harry's sholder, smiling as the boy jumped in his seat, startled. "We'd better get you home, Harry. It's getting late."

Harry nodded, tucking the pamphlet back into the pile and rising to his feet. "Thank you, sir, for these. They all look amazing!" Harry grinned up at the older man, although he seemed slightly wary or something. _He wasn't about to get hugged, was he?_ Michael seemed to sense what he was thinking, because he let out a bark of a laugh, ruffling the boy's already messy black hair. "Not a problem. But remember what I said -- think carefully, and find somebody to look at those with you. It's not a decision to make lightly, Harry."

Harry nodded, a slight blush staining his cheeks as he turned to follow Aaron out, who had simply raised a hand to the older msn, giving him a slight salute before turning to lead his young companion out. Michael shook his head, a small smile touching his lips as the man's antics, before he moved to straighten some of the magazines.

Harry stared down at the leaflets in his hands, idly thumbing through the many pages Michael had given him. The older man had insisted that he be called Michael, and in truth, he had been nice. It almost seemed like everybody in the wizarding world was nice, bar none. Maybe they were a bit eccentric, what with their obsession with shaking his hand and drinking ungodly amounts of tea -- it was so bitter! -- but that was okay. At least Michael hadn't stared at his scar like the others had. Even Aaron had seemed to notice his forehead more than the rest of him. Was this what it was like to be a celebrity?

It was wierd, thinking of himself as a celebrity, as somebody people would actually _want_ to see, to talk to. Somebody that people liked. He wasn't used to being liked. Every once in a while, there would be another kid at school who was nice to him, but they never tried to play with him for very long -- his cousin made sure of that. He wasn't quite sure why Dudley didn't want anybody else to like him, just knew that the larger boy seemed fixated with making sure he didn't have any friends. That was okay, though -- he had plenty of fun by himself. He could have had more fun with other kids, sure, but ...

And why was he thinking about Dudley at a time like this? Of all the things he could have been thiking about, this should have been the last on his list.

They weren't on their way to his relatives.That had been an ... interesting trip, to say the least. Uncle Vernon had been less than pleased to see him, although he had allowed them inside for propriety's sake ...

_Harry shifted uncomfortable in the front hall, clutching the pamphlets Michael had given him to his chest. Uncle Vernon was speaking quietly to Aunt Petunia now, down the hall a bit. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but they were obviously arguing about something. Which was odd, because usually Uncle Vernon's word was law in the house. They weren't shouting, no -- which was good, since he hated it when Uncle Vernons shouted -- but they _were_ gesturing wildly with their hands, standing close togeather. Aunt Petunia was even _glaring_ at Uncle Vernon. He couldn't _remember_ the last time he had seen that. If he ever had._

_Aunt Petunia sighed suddenly, turning toward them. Harry straightened, looking at her quizzicly, wondering why he hadn't been allowed up to his room yet. Were they going to move him back down to his cupboard? That wouldn't be so bad. Sure, it was cramped, but he was used to it. He felt safe there. And besdies, Dudley would stop complaining about losing his second bedroom._

_Petunia didn't move all the way toward them, however, instead turning into the kitchen with a shake of her head. Should he go in there, too? Start lunch like he usually did during the summer?_

_Apparently not. Uncle Vernon had stepped in front of them now, an angry scowl on his ruddy face. Arguing with his face had definately not improved his attitude any. "I thought I told you he wasn't welcome back here? And neither are you. Get out of my house."_

_Aaron simply stared at the rotound man for a second, almost unable to comprehend what he was saying. "He is your _nephew_, not some strange child on the street! Even then this would be unacceptable, but to do it to your own _nephew_?" Aaron wasn't sure when he had reached for his wand, but he had the presense of mind, at least, not to point it at the larger man. That could only end in trouble._

_"He's nothing but trouble, always has been. Only reason we ever took him in, was that stupid old man who claimed there was some _spell_ that would backfire on us if we refused it. Barmy old coot. Should never have listened to him." The last was muttered under Vernon's breath, but Aaron wouldn't help but notice how he said the word "spell" as if it left a bad taste in his mouth._

_Worst kind of magic haters, indeed. He had thought this kind of prejudice only existed in the wizarding world. Apparently, even the most modern of muggles could have the most old fashioned of ideas and beliefs._

_Drawing a deep breath, Aaron's hand tightened around his wand, as he bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment._

_"Uncle Vernon?" Harry ventured, biting down on his llower lip as his uncle turned a furious glare at him. "Can I ... get my things?" Harry bounced the toe of his sneaker against the floor, but he didn't take his eyes off his uncle. To do so would have been rude, and he was _never _rude to his uncle. _

_"Get it, and get out." Vernon turned and stopped into the kitchen swinging the door closed behind him, effectively blocking him from sight. Aaron could only watch as Harry climbed the stairs, at a losss for what to do._

And so they were on their way to a wizarding orphanage. Aaron certaintly wasn't going to leave his young charge with muggles again, or so he had said. Harry didn't see what was upsetting _him_ so much -- they weren't _his_ relatives, _he_ wasn't the one being put out. So why was he so upset? But he was, and Harry couldn't help feeling a little guilty about that.

The orphanage was on the coast, he said, an easy trip to Durmstrang if Harry decided he wanted to attend there.He _claimed_ it was nice, that the proprietors cared about the children they boarded there. Harry was still skeptical, though. An orphanage was an orphanage, and all he had ever heard was how badly children were treated there. How they were beaten, for even the smallest mistake. Not allowed to go to school, they invariably ended up junkies and criminals. That was what his aunt and uncle had told him.

Leaning heavily against the side of Knight Bus, Harry gave a small sigh. As happy as he was that they hadn't taken the Floo again, he almost wished they had, in the same breath. At least they would be there by now, and he wouldn't have this constant worry of not knowing what to expect. The orphanage was cut off from the floo, however. They couldn't afford to have a connection put in, Aaron said, and Harry had to wonder how he knew so much about the orphanage. Did many Durmstrang students come from there?

Turning his head slightly so that he could stare out the window, Harry watched the countryside wizz by with some surprise. He hadn't realised they were so far away from London.

"Go to sleep, Harry. I'll wake you up when we get there." Aaron smiled at his young companion, forcing himself to act more carefree than he felt.

Was this his fault? Their fault, for wanting the beloved Boy Who Lived to attend their school? The boy had lost his family, his home, all because they wanted to show up Hogwarts. If they had never come ...

But surely somebody else would have. Surely another school would have sent somebody, tried to make contact. Although, if Albus Dumbledore was spinning some lie about spells and enchantments to keep the boy with the relatives of his choosing, then he could very well be monitoring his mail. How many oppurtunities had the child missed, because of a barmy old man with too much power -- and time, apparently -- on his hands?

Shifting slightly in his seat, Aaron turned his head and stared out the window that Harry had been gazing out a few moments before. They boy's eyes were now closed, doing his best to follow Aaron's instructions. Not that he had really meant them as an order, but the child had an annoying habit of doing as he was told. Normally this would have been a good trait in a child, but Harry took to an extreme he had never seen in his youth. As if he was deathly frightened of what would happen if _didn't_ obey. Madame Finch would be pleased, at least. Harry didn't seem the type to get in to a lot of trouble.

He hadn't expected to fall asleep, but he must have, for the next thing Harry remembered was Aaron shaking him awake. Blinking open his eyes, he tried to return the small smile that Aaron was giving him, sitting up straighter and following Aaron off the buss with a yawn. He walked unsteadily at first, but b the time they had stepped on to the road, he had once again found his balance.

Before them lay a stone path, many of the stones loose and showing the signs of wear and tear, after years of being trod carelessly over by children and adult alike. The house itself was more like a manor, although it had seen better days. All in all, it was a sad building, but Harry couldn't help but like it, somehow. He could hear the sounds of children playing, although he couldn't see them yet. A gardener loitered out front, obviously taking his time as he sniped slowly at the bushes, although they looked perfectly trimmed to Harry. Did he get paid by the hour? Was that why he was hanging around for so long?

As they stepped up on to the front porch, the sound of children playing got closer, a nd all of a sudden they were there, panting int he doorway. Two of them were taller than the rest, with flaming red hair and blue eyes that marked them easily as family. The other three were of varying colors and body types -- one dark-haired black boy, one asian girl with soft brown eyes, and another white boy with blonde hair and pale blue eyes, almost gray as the sun hit his face.

Aaron smiled at them, though they took a moment to notice him, more interested in the newest addition to their home -- the bag slung over his shoulder, and the bird cage he held in his hand was silent testimony to the fact that he was there to stay -- at least for a little while.

One of the red-heads, a boy, stepped forward, a grin on his face. "David." He held out his hand, and Harry tentatively took it, causing the boy to grin even wider. "Harry." The boy's sister stepped forward next, smiling and holding her hand out as well. "Amy. I'm David's sister." Harry shook his head, nodding.

And so it continued. The asain girl was Keiko, small and quiet. The blonde haired boy was Ian, his voice so soft that Ha rry had to strain to hear it. Amy piped up when he said his name, offering a bit more information. "He's a squib, so he's here all year long. The rest of us go to Durmstrang." At Harry's look of confusion, she continued. "His parents are magical, but he can't use magic. So they sent him here."

Ian sent her a glare for that, rossing his arms an drocking back on his heels as he stared down at the ground. Amy merely shrugged her shoulders, giving him a quick glance before turning back to Harry and grinning.

"Now that we've all been introduced ..." Aaron started, earning hi a roll of the eyes from Amy, "I have to bring Harry inside before we _all_ get in trouble."

" You can't get in trouble, Aaron! You don't even live here." Amy gave Aaron a long-suffering look, and Harry idly wondered if this was the way he would be expected to act. Impolite, abrasive, talking back to his elders ... if he had ever dared to talk to Uncle Vernon like that, he would have been locked in his cupboard without food for a week, at least!

"Have you ever heard that womain _yell_? She's downright scary!" Aaron exclaimed, an exaggerated look of horror on his face, forgetting for a moment that Harry was still standing beside him, listening to every word he said.

Harry swallowed nervously, staring down at the ground. So, nothing much had changed. He just had another person to scream at him. Although, maybe since there wo many other kids here, she wouldn't be yelling at him all the time. And he _would_ be going away to school soon ... so maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

Aaron reached over, ruffling the girl's hair affectionately. Emily, of course, found nothing good about this action, ducking out from under his hand and complaining loudly about the state her hair was now in. Aarons imply laughed out loud, beckoning with one hand for Harry to follow him. The youth trudged after him, glancing over his shoulder in time to see the boy -- David -- waving at him, whil the others simply watched them go, talking amongst themselves. Harry gave a short, uncomfortable wave back, unfamiliar with people being nice to him. It was ... different. Not bad, just different.

The door closed behind them, and Harry shivered at the sudden coolness of the entrance room. There were sneakers and other shoes piled beside the door, and a small boy glanced up from the large table that dominated the front room, eyes going wide before he darted out from his chair and down the hall. A moment later, a older woman appeared, brown eyes taking in the two travel-worn companions and the small bag Harry carried.

"Aaron!" She bustled over to them, enveloping the man in a warm hug, smoothing his hair as she pulled away.

Then she turned to Harry.

--

Why stop here? Mostly because I'm not one hundred percent sure what's going to happen next. And also, I wanted to get this chapter out-- finially! I haven't abandoned this story, never fear! It's just taken me a while to get it out, what with moving and losing both my computer and the internet for a while. Enjoy!


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